


My Cold, Chrome Heart

by absurdiist (workthewentz)



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, I Hate Tags It's Porn, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:08:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28764558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/workthewentz/pseuds/absurdiist
Summary: A series of one-shots about V's relationship with his favorite NetWatch agent.
Relationships: Bryce Mosley/Male V
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52





	My Cold, Chrome Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Laurincia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurincia/gifts).



> Gifting this work to Strix, without whom the Bryce from NetWatch fandom probably wouldn't even exist. I hope you like it, corpofucker. 
> 
> Unbetaed, so any errors are completely my fault haha.

Goddamn texts.

V drives to his next gig, blindly following the map at the left side of his hud. He’s distracted, and his usual weaving-in-and-out-of-traffic routine is more difficult than he expects. He even nearly scratches his Caliburn.

“That would’ve made me a little sad,” V mutters, mocking the Netwatch agent who’s occupied his thoughts ever since he left Pacifica. It’s slow going, this quest he’s on to save his life, full of people out to get him, betray him in some way. Bryce was a refreshing departure, someone whose words he didn’t have to fact-check, who treated him like an equal rather than an annoyance. “Honest for a corpo,” he says to himself, and he knows Johnny would kick him for thinking it, but Johnny’s made himself scarce since their meeting with the Voodoo Boys – ego bruised after their altercation with his ex-output, he would guess.

V’s hud chimes with a new message, from one Bryce Mosley, and he has to stop himself from pulling over just to check it. He taps his fingers on the wheel impatiently, pushing the Caliburn over 150 mph in an effort to get to his destination faster. Finally, he reaches the hotel where he’s to meet his contact, and he pulls up his messages as fast as he possibly can, still sitting in his car. “ _Good luck, V. and be careful.”_

“Fuck.” V tips his head back against the seat, trying to chase away thoughts of Bryce being _concerned_ about him. “Fuck it,” he curses again, typing out a message before he can think better of it. _“Telling me I’m never gonna see you again?”_ He regrets sending it instantly, knowing Bryce is going to shoot him down – worse, he’s going to ignore him.

The reply comes through almost instantly, to his surprise. _“Never’s a pretty strong word. What are you doing right now?”_ V’s eyes widen as he types out a response.

 _“Sitting in my car, waiting on a contact. You?”_ he has to physically restrain himself from telling the agent when, why, and where, including a detailed analysis of his itinerary in case Bryce is busy at the moment.

 _“Something classified ;)”_ V grips the wheel and forces himself to breathe slowly, his heartbeat quickening. Another text comes through. _“But sitting in your car sounds much more entertaining. Where are you?”_

_“Like you can’t find out.”_

_“Please, V. As much as I’d like to be, I’m not omnipresent.”_

V sends back his location, willing his nerves to calm. He’s not some fucking teenager, he reminds himself, staying up late to sneak out for a booty call. But Bryce is making him feel like one, the stupid crush he harbors growing worse by the second.

It’s not long before a car pulls up, indiscriminate black with tinted windows, and parks beside his. V knows in his gut that it’s Bryce, and he gets out of the Caliburn to lean against its hood as he waits.

Bryce emerges from the car, a smirk on his face. He’s still in his work attire, that damned off-white shirt and those slacks, and V inhales sharply. The neon from the hotel sign glints off his cyberware, black matte arms bathed in pink light. He leans against the hood of his own car, pulling a pack of cigarettes and a vintage lighter from his pocket. V watches him place the cigarette in his mouth, the curl of his lips obscene.

“Glad you came,” V says, turning to face him fully. Bryce stays still, eyes fixated on the sign, smoke curling around him.

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I left you hanging?”

V scoffs at that. “Hm. Somehow, didn’t take you for the gentlemanly type.” At that, the Netwatch agent turns his head, raises an eyebrow at V. “Was I wrong?”

“No.” The cigarette is suddenly discarded, and Bryce smells like smoke when he crowds into V’s space, presses their lips together. V lets his arms come up to encircle Bryce’s waist as Bryce pushes his tongue into V’s mouth, a moan slipping out involuntarily. Bryce pulls back, pupils blown. “You gonna get us a room or am I gonna have to blow you against the hood of your car?”

V chuckles, licking his lips. “We can use my contact’s. Won’t be here for hours.”

“What a way to kill time,” Bryce says, straightening and following V.

They don’t make it to the bed.

V enters the room, the door closing automatically behind them and Bryce pounces, attaching his lips to V’s neck and crowding him up against the door. V traces the line of his mouth, traveling from his neck to his ear and back down again, across his collarbones and back up to the other side. V discards his shirt and Bryce kneels, looking up at him with the filthiest smirk on his face, undoing his tie.

“Hope you don’t mind, V,” Bryce says, and grabs V’s wrists, making an intricate knot with the tie that has V struggling to release himself when he tests it. V looks down at him, thumbing open the button on his jeans and he moans, squeezing his eyes shut and tipping his head back against the door.

The tie is so tight that V can’t even grasp Bryce’s hair as he takes the merc’s cock into his mouth, letting it sit heavy on his tongue like he’s savoring it. He swirls his tongue around the head of it, refusing to take it fully into his mouth until V is panting, beads of sweat winding their way down his chest.

But oh, when he _does_. The man is a practiced professional, swallowing him down in needy gulps, and V’s not huge by any means, but he’s not small either, so it shouldn’t be this easy to– _fuck_.  
“You this thorough at work?” V asks, choking back a moan as the head of his cock hits the back of Bryce’s throat. The agent just moans around him, sending sparks flying in V’s head and he bucks his hips, unable to keep his cool as his hands are otherwise occupied at the moment.

But Bryce manages to reach up, grabbing V’s ass and pushing him forward, an invitation. V’s eyes widen, looking down at Bryce already taking all of his cock, and he lets go. His eyes roll back in his head as his hips snap forward, his chest heaving with arousal.

He feels the agent’s throat close around him as he thrusts, letting wild, unhinged moans escape from his throat. Suddenly Bryce’s mouth slides off his cock with a wet pop and he makes a confused noise, bereft at the sudden loss of contact. He opens his eyes and stares down at Bryce, who smirks up at him, saliva and precome covering his lips in an obscene gloss. The sight alone almost makes him moan again.

“Changed my mind. I don’t want you to come like this,” Bryce says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and unwinding the tie from around V’s wrists. His voice sounds fucked-out, gruff, and V pulls him up by the shirt collar to cover Bryce’s mouth with his own.

He pulls back after a second of their lips sliding against each other. “Get on the bed,” he commands.

There is no room in his tone for argument. V says nothing, obeying and backing up until his legs hit the bed. He peels himself out of his shirt and pants, sliding onto the mattress in nothing but his underwear, his cock hanging out wet and flushed. Bryce undoes his fly, but leaves his clothes otherwise intact, climbing onto the bed and hovering over V.

“Wanted this ever since I saw you in that fucking office,” he whispers. “Threatened like you were gonna kill me.” Neither of them had the foresight to bring lube, so he runs his fingers along V’s cheek, his jawline, before prying open his mouth and sticking two fingers in. V licks them shamelessly, staring into Bryce’s eyes as he coats them in his saliva. Bryce brings his hand down in between V’s legs, working him open with nimble fingers as V arches his back and moans into his mouth. “Glad you didn’t.”

When he’s had enough, Bryce lines up and slides into V, watching the merc clench his fists in the sheets. Bryce curses and picks up a brutal pace, fucking V like both their lives depend on getting off. V looks up at him and nearly comes right there, watching the open, blissed out look on his face as he tilts his head up towards the ceiling, his neck cybernetics glistening in the light.

He clings to Bryce’s waist, wrapping his legs around the agent’s hips and fucking him back. Bryce leans down to kiss him, driving himself in deeper and hitting a spot inside V that has him groaning incoherently.

Both of them are close, and V wraps a hand around his own cock to jerk himself in time with Bryce’s thrusts, which are growing more stuttered by the second. The agent groans that he’s about to come and moves to pull out, but V digs his heels into the agent’s lower back, forcing him to come inside him.

When they’re both spent, V’s come drying uncomfortably on his stomach, Bryce pulls out and flops down beside V. They lay on their sides facing each other, flushed and sweating, and the agent slides hand around the back of V’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss that’s more sweet than searing.

“Thought you weren’t the gentlemanly type,” V smirks when he’s released, snarking, ignoring the tingle on his lips, the heat deep within him. “What’s next, pillow talk and you order me room service?”

“Why not?” Bryce says, leaning back against the pillow. “Don’t tell me you wanna get rid of me already. That’s cold, V.”

A laugh escapes the merc. “No, just thought you were strictly here for business, is all.”

“Maybe I was. But maybe I’m starting to like you,” he confesses, tilting his head. His tone is light, but V’s chest clenches all the same.

“What a tragedy,” V deadpans to cover it up. This time Bryce laughs, and they exchange another round of small, chaste kisses before V grumps about needing a shower.

He moves to stand, but before he can get up Bryce’s hand encircles his wrist. “How have you been since the Voodoo Boys? Your system clean?” The sudden genuine concern knocks the wind out of V as Bryce stares up at him with wide, honest eyes.

“As clean as can be,” V answers on impulse, mentally kicking himself for the implication. Bryce doesn’t know more than he should about the Relic, and it needs to stay that way.

“I only ask out of concern, V.”

“I’ve been fine.”

“That’s good to hear,” Bryce smiles, the lines around his eyes crinkling, and V slips his eyes closed, taking a deep breath to shove down the feelings that are threatening to bubble up and burst out of him. He’s not used to concern, to being caught off guard.

Recognizing his cue to leave, Bryce stands, fixing his clothes and making for the door, winking at V before he goes. “Let me know if you need anything,” he says, “or if you just wanna _talk_.” The implication is filthy, and V’s cock twitches at his tone. “I’ll see you.” V flops back down onto the bed, staring at the floor as he breathes hard out of his nose. Fucking the NetWatch agent was one thing, but he finds himself _missing_ him.

He’ll call him tomorrow.


End file.
